DENIAL AND DISCUSSIONS
by Quivorian
Summary: Lisbon realized that she hadn't denied it. She had blushed a little and tried to keep her face straight, but she hadn't denied it. Lying in bed, thinking of Patrick, Sean Barlow had said, you're a little in love with him, eh? And she hadn't denied it. (Not the best of summaries, first fic, set after the (very confusing) season finale, give it a try?)
1. DENIAL

_Let me see… lying in bed, thinking of Patrick. You're a little bit in love with him, eh? But he's so secretive and controlling, it's a little hard, isn't it?_

Lisbon realized that she hadn't denied it. She had blushed a little and tried to keep her face straight, but she hadn't denied it. _Lying in bed, thinking of Patrick_, Sean Barlow had said, _you're a little in love with him, eh? _And she hadn't denied it. It was correct. That's why it spooked her that a man whom she had never known of, and vice versa, could boldly predict what she had been doing three nights ago.

She pondered over what Barlow said as she climbed down the stairs after changing into something more comfortable than her work-clothes. Lisbon admitted that she had been thinking of Patrick that night. Not because she loved him. No. She cared about him. _I care about Jane_, Lisbon said to herself, _that's all that is_, sitting down on her couch and turning the television on.

Her mind ventured to Jane again. That evening he had given her his list of suspects. The seven people, out of which, one had to be Red John. He had stared out the window aimlessly as Lorelei read out Red John's message.

_The names are; Bret Stiles, Gale Bertram, Raymond Haffner, Reede Smith, Bob Kirkland, Sheriff Thomas McAllister. There, see? That's clever. But fairs fair, Patrick. You've changed the game, so there's new rules now. Eileen Turner was the first of many. I'm going to start killing again. Often. Until you catch me— or I catch you._

She had left after he shattered the damning DVD, leaving him to his attic. Red John had taken out one of Jane's happy memories, and it wouldn't have been a good idea to try and comfort him. As much as he had needed it. _Damn it! _Her thoughts were still on Jane. Why was she thinking of Jane anyway? Sure, she cared about him. The man was a wreck. A walking bomb that might explode at any moment. Her mother-bear instincts had always spiked when she was around Jane.

Denial wasn't an option. Because as much as you cared about a person, to think of him while in bed meant something else entirely. Especially when said thoughts were in her mind nearly every night. It meant that… No. Lisbon kept denying it. It wasn't possible. She pushed away any non-platonic thoughts that may have arisen and focused on the Irish psychic's words. _'…the Barlow's always tried to pass themselves as "real" psychics'_ Jane had said, but his words provided her with little comfort. No one could read thoughts. Not that well. Her mind was trying to find ways to ease the sense of restlessness that plagued her when she remembered that she had forgotten to take into consideration someone important.

_Patrick Jane. _Con-man. Hypnotist. Mentalist extraordinaire. Jane did the same things. Sure, his actions usually resulted in a lawsuit, a large pile of complaints or a bruised nose, but what Barlow did was no different to what Jane did. Observation and deduction. Faking it. Freaking people out. _There are no such things as psychics. _Jane's words echoed in her mind and with it, an image of him strutting around insulting and provoking anyone who'd crossed his path. Lisbon almost laughed. She convinced herself that what Barlow said was just meant to scare her. As true as the statement was.

She got off the couch and walked towards her kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She deserved it after all that happened on that day. Deciding to down the entire bottle, she returned to her seat with the bottle in one hand, and a rather large glass in the other. Half-way through her second glass, she grasped at another thing she had forgotten to consider. If Sean Barlow, someone who had deduced her infatuation, for lack of a better word, with Jane within mere minutes of meeting her… Who's to say Jane hadn't known that?

The startling new revelation made her almost spill her wine. Jane probably knows. Who was she kidding? Jane would've surely known that. He had acknowledged that he _is secretive and controlling_. He had tried to share. Though he didn't mention anything else, he'd acknowledged that. Poor Jane had more than enough on his plate already, what with the DVD of Lorelei and Red John taking away one of few happy memories Jane had, Lisbon decided that she wasn't going to pursue the matter. Not that she wanted to.

Almost a year ago, Jane had said that he loved her. Not in details, heck, it wasn't even romantic. He had hugged her passionately, pointed a gun at her and said '_Good Luck, Teresa, love you'_ before fake-killing her to try and catch Red John. Sometime later, Lorelei Martins had mused that Jane stuck around CBI because he was a little bit in love with Lisbon.

It wasn't possible. She had dismissed Lorelei, chalking it off as Red John's mistresses' way of making her panic. _Even though Jane hadn't denied it. _Lisbon had noticed. Jane had kissed Lorelei, said he would go as far as asking Lorelei to marry him if he thought it'd catch Red John, and Lisbon had fought against him. _I am not your girlfriend, of course I listened. _Lisbon thought of what she had said. Why did she say that? If what she said were true, why had she felt betrayed?

Three times the ominous word had been said. Once Jane had said it. The second time it was a murderess who mentioned it. The third and the latest had been the creepy psychic. Lisbon pulled the sheets up to her neck and dug herself deeper into the couch. She thought of all that had happened between her and Jane since they'd first met.

Jane was a pain-in-the-ass. Jane was the reason that she had to spend most of her time filling out paperwork or apologizing. Yet, for some strange reason, he was the reason that she smiled. He'd distract her with one of his tricks on a bad day. He'd comfort her when she was down. He'd once dragged a pony all the way to her office to as a birthday present. And she had always defended him when he needed it, dragged him back to sunlight and society when he was being taken over by the dark side of his persona. She stuck by his side through all his crazy schemes and his worst times.

Sean Barlow hadn't lied. Lisbon was a little bit in love with Jane. No, not a little bit. Way more than she had ever realized. And it scared her. It scared her that she was falling in love with, no, had fallen in love with Jane. But what scared her even more was that Jane would never lover her back. He was still in love with his wife. He still wore the ring, a mark of his love to his wife, long after she died. You didn't find men like that nowadays.

Lisbon remembered the interview tape from the case involving Erica Flynn. The match-maker who had murdered her husband. Jane had gone undercover and proved her guilty with one of his ridiculously wild schemes. '_I'm looking for someone who… someone I can trust. Someone strong, someone at peace with themselves, someone better than me. Someone who knows the worst side of me and still loves me' _Jane had said, smiling sadly.

_Sounds like an amazing woman._

_She was._

That in itself was proof enough. Though Lisbon felt strangely elated at having almost perfectly matched Jane's description of the woman he was looking for, she knew that Jane was still in love with his wife. He still wore the ring. However accurate the Irish psychic's words may have been, however much Lisbon loved Jane, she could never be with him. Or rather, he would never be with her.

The thought hurt Lisbon. She convinced herself that all was for good. She had to get some sleep. Deciding to crash on her couch instead of climbing up the stairs to her bedroom, she put down the glass of wine, dug herself a little deeper into the couch and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep that she knew wouldn't easily come.

The doorbell rang rudely, interrupting Lisbon's sleep even before she fell asleep. Cursing, she stood up, walked over and yanked the door open. 'What the hell d'you thi_—' _words failed her once she saw who her late-night visitor was. The source of all her troubles. She stared speechless at Jane who was standing outside, panting, a look on his face that meant nothing but trouble.

'Lisbon, we need to talk.'

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_First time I've uploaded something. It's nothing much, just something that's been in my mind since I watched _Red John's Rules_ (which wasn't what I expected btw). Reviews are greatly appreciated. The story has a continuation, but I won't feel like posting it unless this story is deemed worthy by true fans of the Mentalist. Thank you. _**- Quiv**


	2. DISCUSSIONS

**DISCLAIMER: **_Now if I owned the Mentalist, CBS would've cancelled it before the first season was over. Seeing as how it still runs (successfully) I'm sure it doesn't take a Mentalist to realize I don't own the Mentalist. Just my mind, and every weird idea it comes up with. Blah blah blah Mentalist. Blah blah not mine blah. Bruno Heller blah blah. I guess that just about covers it._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_I thank all the reviewers for their reviews. You have no idea how happy I felt when I came to understand that two of my favorite authors had taken the time to review my story. _MY _story! Plus I separately thank Donnamour1969 because I copied a phrase off her review. It fitted better than the alternative I had written. Sorry if this is not what you expected, but the Creed says _Nulla è reale, tutto è lecito, _and I abide by the Creed.____  
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* * *

'_Lisbon, we need to talk.'_

By the time Jane realized it was a bad idea, it was already too late. He had already driven his baby blue Citroen all the way to Lisbon's apartment, ran up the stairs and rung the bell. Just as he had been considering turning around and going back to his CBI attic, Lisbon had opened the door.

_That's quite a feat of memory and research. Bravo. I bet you think you're pretty damn clever, but you're not. You caught a lucky break. _Red John's words still echoed in Jane's mind. _That's not clever, I'll show you clever. I'm going to kill a happy memory you've never told anyone. And when you investigate, I'm going to lead you right to this video. _

The man who murdered his wife and child had once again taken the upper hand. Red John was taunting him, and Jane knew it. Didn't know what to do about it though. Jane didn't have many happy memories left, and Red John had killed her.

'She'd just a memory that made me smile,' Jane had confided to Lisbon in her office, earlier that evening. 'And Red John killed her. It— it's like he reached into my head and killed a happy memory.'

Now, he was standing at Lisbon's doorstep, having left the dark and musty attic in which resided, hoping that he would find solace at her apartment. Lisbon had always believed in him, even when he had given up hope, and made him happy to exist.

Lisbon was staring at him. Open-mouthed and in shock. He had noticed the change in Lisbon's body language when she saw him. Her muscles had tensed, and her pupils had dilated. 'Can I come in?' Jane asked and, when didn't answer, waltzed past her, purposefully touching her wrist to measure her pulse. _It seemed necessary._

Jane took in the state of Lisbon's couch before sitting down on it. If sunken state of the cushions coupled with the muted television and the half, and rather large glass of wine were any indication Lisbon had planned on sleeping in the couch. _Unusual. _Jane noted. Lisbon was being more… _jumpy_. He suspected that Red John was only part of the reason for her strange nervousness.

Lisbon walked towards Jane and sat down on the couch besides him. She had recovered nicely from the initial shock of seeing Jane at her doorstep without any warning. Still, Jane noted that she sat some distance away from him and that her jumpy-ness was still lingering.

'What do we need to talk about?' Jane could see that Lisbon was hoping that he wouldn't try reading her. Too late. Jane's brain had a mind of its own. It had already concluded what was bothering Lisbon.

'Red John.' Jane said, his voice quavering. He would avoid bringing the second topic until this was off the table. 'Lorelei. The DVD.' Jane maintained a face void of any expressions. He understood that he must be looking like a man on the edge of madness. He could feel the wheels in Lisbon's head turning. Worrying about him. Wondering whether he would run off to Vegas like the boneless coward he was or retreat back into his madness brooding over the god-awful serial killer who had taken his family.

Thinking of his family made Jane feel guilty. Guilty about his true intentions for being in Lisbon's apartment. He was feeling guilty about seeking comfort with a woman other than his wife.

_She's dead. _Jane reminded himself. _Angela and Charlotte. They are both dead. _There wasn't anything he could do. Except move on. With someone who he cared about and someone who cared about him equally. He felt like he didn't deserve Lisbon after all he'd put her through.

Lisbon tried saying something but Jane cut her off with an elegant wave of his hand. 'I want to promise to you, Lisbon, that I am done with my irrationality. I am not planning on going off on my own to hunt him and I am not going to wallow in self-pity in the dusty recesses of my attic.'

Lisbon's whole demeanor became calmer at hearing these words leave his mouth. He noticed. He always did. Jane was happy that he could provide Lisbon with some comfort that she so desperately needed. He knew that he bought out Lisbon's mother-bear tendencies.

'Why should you change now?' Lisbon asked, he knew that she wanted to trust him. Yet her eyes told him that she didn't. She has all reasons not to, Jane figured, considering all the crap that he had put her through in the years that she worked with him.

Jane smiled sadly, looking at the petite super-cop sitting in front him, conflicted. Lisbon's trust issues were bubbling up. 'Because, Lisbon, now I have realized something that I hadn't before in my blind rage. I realize that however much I try, Red John will always stay one step ahead of me. Unless I let someone help me.' He continued looking at Lisbon hopefully, waiting to see whether she had understood the underlying meaning of his words.

'Me?'

She had. Still she didn't trust him. _Serves me right. _Jane knew that he deserved it. All this time Lisbon had tried helping him, tried giving him a helping hand and yet he kept pushing her out.

_Until I come out of this room, I need to be alone Lisbon. Alone. No interruptions. No distractions. Please. _His words echoed in his mind. He had always done that. Deliberately pushing her away whenever she tried to help him. And now, that he was actually asking for her help, she didn't trust him.

'Yes, Lisbon. You.'

'You're actually going to tell me what your plans are? You are going to tell them to me _before _you set them in motion? Before I have a lawsuit sitting on my desk?' Lisbon questioned him, as if he were a suspect she was interrogating.

'No.' he stated matter-of-factly, almost laughing at the fact that she wasn't surprised. He had done this way too often, hurt her way too much. 'Where's the fun in that? Granted, I will share with you all details of my Red John related investigations. New leads, new information, everything. But on our regular cases, you're gonna have to find out my plans on your own.'

He stood up and walked towards her kitchen. Searching through her cupboards, he found a box of Earl Grey (he noted that it was untouched, except for one missing tea bag from his last visit) and started making himself a cup of tea. _Tea calmed him. _He figured he'd need it if he was actually going to talk to Lisbon about ulterior motives for visiting her. He turned towards the living room. Lisbon was watching the program on TV intently. Or rather, she made a show of trying to look like she was watching the TV. Not that it fooled Jane, of course.

_Now is a good time as any. _He decided to take a risk. 'Lisbon, about—' he started, going for the sensitive topic.

'Are you alright, Jane?' Lisbon cut him off. 'I mean… what happened with Eileen and all?' Jane could tell from Lisbon's tone that she wanted to avoid the other topic. Forget about it, if possible.

'I'm fine, Lisbon. I know I shouldn't be, but brooding doesn't help, does it? I've learned that by experience. Eileen is dead. Red John killed her.' Jane answered calmly. 'Nothing I can do other than working harder until we catch that bastard. Or he catches me.' He saw her flinch at his usage of the term _bastard._

_Eileen Turner was the first of many. I'm going to start killing again. Often. Until you catch me— or I catch you_. Once again Jane repeated Red John's words in his mind.

The kettle whistled. Jane turned around and prepared his tea. Cup in hand, he returned to the couch and settled beside Lisbon. _Red John had taken away a happy memory, who's to say he won't try taking my only reason to live? _Jane's mind wandered meaninglessly. He was worrying about Lisbon. The mini-firecracker that anchored him to reality.

_Protect Lisbon. Stay close to her. Keep her safe. _Jane prioritized. His vengeance wasn't the priority anymore. He wasn't going to lose his second chance at happiness because of his pointless quest.

They both stared at the muted television set in silence. 'How long are we going to stare at it before we address the elephant in the room?' Jane broke the silence between them.

'Wha- What?' Lisbon asked, suddenly becoming self-conscious and inching away from him.

Jane grinned. Not the charming smile that he put on when he needed to fool someone. Not the sad smile that took over his face when he was floundering and self-pitying. 'Sean Barlow.' Jane said, 'Don't you want to talk about what he said?'

He noticed Lisbon's face change. She became tense, like when she'd first opened the door. She swallowed. 'No?' It was more of a question than a statement. She was asking his opinion, waiting for him to make the first move. _Insecure_. It wasn't a state Jane usually found Lisbon in.

'It's been said three times Lisbon. You know that. You've tried denial, didn't work very well, did it?' His question made her nervous.

_So that thing you said before you shot me, what did you mean? _He remembered Lisbon asking him in the warehouse where they'd set up base a year ago, trying to catch Red John. He remembered her voice, the uneasiness and the unsureness that was in her voice, mixed with a thousand other emotions.

_What did I say? _Jane had asked Lisbon. Deciding to act like he didn't remember what he said. Patrick Jane never forgot a thing. _I was kinda hyped up. _He had chastised himself after that. For being a spineless weakling. He had to set things straight. Now was his chance.

'I didn't forget what I said, Lisbon. I never do. I was coward at the time.' He waited, seeing various emotions flick through Lisbon's face. Jane inched closer to her, close enough to feel the heat emanating from her small frame.

'I know what was in your mind before I appeared on your doorsteps, Teresa.' He used her first name on purpose. It had the effect he wanted, she looked at him, expectantly, waiting for him to continue. 'You wonder whether I picked up on what Barlow did? The answer is yes. You wonder whether Lorelei spoke the truth about my reason for staying with the CBI? Yes. You wonder whether I meant what I said before I shot you? With all my hea—'

He didn't have a chance to finish his confession. Lisbon was on his lap, kissing him. Not a peck on the lips. Neither was it a kiss filled with lust. It was a simple, sweet kiss that conveyed all the unspoken thoughts and ignored feelings between them. A kiss full of hope and promises. He let her take control and reveled in the taste of her lips, she'd been drinking _a lot_ of wine, and Jane could taste it, amongst her tears.

After what seemed like minutes, or it might have been hours, or mere seconds, they broke apart. Lisbon settled down beside him, her heartbeat racing. Jane could see her doubts in her eyes as she took the glass of wine and sipped from it. She laced her hand through his and he felt her stop momentarily at his ring.

He removed the white-gold band and pocketed it. 'She's gone, Lisbon. I have to accept that and move on. With someone else I love.' He pulled her chin up with one hand forcing her to look at his eyes, letting his words seep in. 'The ring has come to symbolize my mission more than my marriage.'

He still felt guilty. He felt guilty about his wife. He felt guilty that he may be putting Lisbon in trouble. That he was dragging her down with him, but the look on her face made him dismiss all his worrying thoughts. He was happy now, and god damn it if he was going to let his opponent take that away from him.

'What about Red John? What does _this_ mean?' Lisbon asked. Her words carrying more meanings that he cared to count.

'He took away my wife and child. He killed my happy memory, Lisbon. I am not going to let him hurt anyone else I care about.' Jane put down his cup of tea and cupped her face with both his hands, kissing her again.

Seeing Lisbon smile at him made his good humor return. 'But that would mean that I'd have to sleep over at your place more often than not. Problem?' Jane asked. They wouldn't move too fast in their relationship, but Jane was determined to stay with Lisbon as much as possible.

Lisbon stood up and walked over to the stairs, and turned back to look at Jane, who felt his fears melting away. His past felt a little less heavy, a little less troubling.

Lisbon smiled again. 'I guess I can live with that.'

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: **_Once again, sorry if the story isn't good as you expected it to be. But I tried, so points for trying. If you want me to redo this from Lisbon's POV, just say so. I am currently writing another Mentalist fanfic. A bigger one this time. Hope you'll read and like that one too. Reviews, please? Also, I may do a sequel to this if I feel like it or any of you give me an idea how to continue it._


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